Our Winnie, and The Little Match Girl

by Evelyn Everett-Green

So that Allumette had now neither father nor mother, and though she was still permitted to live in the double attic where this heterogeneous family party made their home, she was nobody’s child, and nobody wanted her. She had to earn her own living in the streets, and though she met with no ill-treatment at home, she received no love or tenderness, and knew that her presence was felt to be a nuisance by the parents of the other children.

Moreover, some of the boys were of an age when teasing becomes a delight, and Allumette was always reckoned as fair game, for she had nobody to stand by her and take her part.

It was before the days of School Boards, and Allumette had no chance of learning except at a ragged school which she frequented as often as she could in the evenings. But if she had been unlucky with her matches by day, she was always sent out again to dispose of her stock later on, and then she was too late and too tired ever to think of learning anything.

And yet the child was not altogether unhappy in her life. She made interests for herself, and sometimes friends too. Had she not several customers who showed her kindness in a fitful way? and was there not, above all, “her gentleman,” as she called him, who was more to her than all the rest put together? And was there not the old cobbler and his wife at the end of the alley, who were always glad to see her when she came? She did not like to go too often, because Mrs. Gregg would give her bread and treacle, and she did not think they always had enough to eat themselves; but it was always pleasant to sit by their little fire and hear the old man’s stories; and to-day she bent her steps there with great eagerness, for she meant to spend her own two pennies (given by the gentleman) on some herrings for them, and then she would not mind sharing the frugal meal, and could tell them about her wonderful windfall, and ask their advice as to what she could do with her treasure.

Allumette’s home was up a number of rickety stairs in a narrow court, and when she arrived there she found her stepmother in the midst of a Saturday clean, and by no means prepared to welcome anybody. The child only paused to hand in her money, and then disappeared down the stairs with alacrity; for one of the most valued privileges which had been accorded her was that her time was her own when she had disposed of her stock of matches.

Her bare feet went pattering up the alley, which grew darker and narrower towards the end. At the end stood a tall, grim-looking house, let out in rooms to a poor class of tenants, the lowest floor, comprising two rooms and a tiny kitchen beyond, being rented to the cobbler, whose front room was a sort of workshop where he was always to be seen cobbling and patching old boots, many of which seemed almost past the skill of even his dexterous fingers.

Sometimes Allumette picked up old boots in rubbish heaps and brought them to him, and often she found bits of leather which were useful to him in patching. The little girl was fond of the old couple, and they of her. It was always a treat to her to go and sit in the quiet of their room.

The herrings were bought at a shop in the alley, where they were to be had cheaper than anywhere else; and with her odorous burden she hastened to the little house at the end, where her old friends received her with smiles and kind words.

It was a slack afternoon with the cobbler, as he had taken home his last batch of work, and had not much in hand until fresh orders arrived. So he sat holding the child’s hand while she poured into his ears her wonderful tale, and displayed before his astonished eyes her wonderful shining coin.

Mrs. Gregg came up to look and admire and wonder, and eager was the discussion which followed.